 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : |  |
THE QUILTING
Dolly sits a-quilting by her mother, stich by stitch,Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch,
While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand,
As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand.
And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch;
Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.
| The Collected Poetry of Paul Laurence Dunbar : | |